


You and Undyne visit your parents for Christmas

by morefishplease



Series: Comfy Fish Stories [31]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Christmas, Cute, F/M, Meeting the Parents, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-18 10:29:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10615041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morefishplease/pseuds/morefishplease
Summary: What it says in the title. Due to having originally been written and posted for a different site most of my stories' titles are just descriptions of the story, and I'm too lazy to make up meaningful titles for everything.





	

“Do you think they’ll like me?” Undyne asks, reaching over and taking your hand on the center console and there’s a hint of nervousness in her voice and you look over and start to laugh but it’s obvious from the way she’s looking at you, eyes wide, very serious, that oh crap she isn’t joking.

“I’ve told them a lot about you,” you tell her to kind of deflect the question and she rolls her eyes, says she knows that already. She’s leaning over into you, pressing her cheek against your arm glumly, kissing your shoulder halfheartedly and you tell her “hey, listen, kid, don’t worry about it, alright?”

“I’m not worried, who says I’m worried?” Your eyes meet, just for an instant, a flash of wide and ripe yellow beneath the staccato streetlights and you smile at her and she smiles back, teeth shining like the moon, and you know she’s over it.

“They’ll like you,” you prophesy, and she smiles softly to herself, looks out the window. The snow is thick but the streets are plowed and clear. You’ll be there soon.

Turn signal, off the freeway. Undyne’s looking around at the quiet Christmas streets, observing. There’s the train station, there’s the little convenience store you and your friends would always raid after school. Undyne’s hand tightens over yours. “I don’t care if they like me or not,” she says, backbone stiffening in her words. “You’re the one I care about.”

You’re still holding hands when you get out, make the silent trudge up the path to your parents’ house. The lights are blazing quite readily against the chilly night and the little artificial Christmas tree is twinkling pathetically in the big bay window. You reach out to ring the doorbell but Undyne grabs your hand, brings it up and around, places it on her cheek. She kisses your palm lightly, stares at you with doey eyes.

“Yes?” you ask, already smiling. Undyne stairs for a moment longer, blinks, tosses her head, runs a hand through her hair.

“Nothing,” she explains, wry grin dancing around her lips. “I just wanted to look at you.” She darts in, kisses you deeply, passionately, runs her tongue through your mouth, moans lightly. You bite her lip gently and she giggles, trace your fingernails down her neck and she shudders, draws herself closer to you. You reach out, ring the doorbell, and she rolls her eyes, disengages, leaves her hand on yours, gets ready.

Your mom opens the door and a cascade of excited chatter pours out with her. You can see your dad standing in the background, sour and serious but still smiling at you, ever so lightly, and your little sister poking her head around the corner, staring at Undyne, drinking her in, mouth tightening with shyness. You’re watching Undyne too; you’re watching how she takes a defensive step back, shrinks into you a little when your mother greets her, hugs her, looks her up and down, when your dad comes over, shakes her hand. You can see it roll over her like waves but she weathers it and that brittleness she gets whenever she has to meet someone new cracks and she starts smiling back and you know the evening will be fine. You squeeze Undyne’s hand and she squeezes back and when you get a chance you exchange a knowing glance and Undyne rolls her eyes as though to say ‘okay, you were right.’

 

“Goodnight you two,” your mother calls out as you descend singlefile down into the basement, and when you glance back you see Undyne smiling to herself, cheeks vaguely flushed, and she glances up, meets your gaze, smiles harder.

“That was nice,” she says.

“Told you.”

“Yeah yeah,” she rolls her eyes, throwing a light punch at your shoulder.

Your dad’s already unfolded the sofa for you, and you set your things down, turn back to take Undyne’s bag from her, but get a faceful of sweet-smelling cleavage instead. Undyne paws at you, runs her hands down your back, your sides, your arms as you pick her up, press her against the wall, kiss her breasts. When you look up you see her licking the candy cane your mother had given her, giving you a long slow wink. “We have to be quiet,” you tell her, warding off her one-handed attempts to unbutton your shirt, but Undyne grabs you by the collar, pulls you close.

“Try not to make so much noise then,” she hisses, kissing you roughly. Her lips taste like peppermint and you run your tongue along them, listening to her girlish giggle as you slowly slide your hands behind her back, unhook her bra. Once it falls to the floor and you’ve kissed your way down her breasts, circled her nipple with your tongue, bit down lightly but suddenly and made her crack the candy cane between her teeth she flings you backward onto the bed. She perches atop you, legs splayed, running her hand over your hardon, through your pants. “I saved the best present for last,” she whispers as she starts to unbuckle your belt, and as you gather her hair in your hands to keep it out of her face you try to think of something  clever to say but she glances up at you, mouth full, tongue working in slow, lazy circles, you find you can’t think of anything at all.

**Author's Note:**

> The idea of Undyne being shy about meeting people always seemed really adorable to me so I knew I had to work it in somehow. I think that one paragraph I wrote about it is really beautiful and overall I'm pretty proud of this story; I'm pretty proud of most of my stories, actually, they tend to have at least one really good moment I can look back at fondly.


End file.
